Adventures in Concordia
by GrumpyGirl314
Summary: After Voldemort's downfall, McGonagall creates a new house, forcing the students to join together and look past their differences. Little does she know the danger creating such a house puts everyone in. The three unlikely friends will soon discover what destiny has in store. A collaborative effort following the adventure from three different points of view.
1. Prologue Part 1: Lovelyn

**A collaborative effort with jdwest91 and Niros The Mad Warlock. **

_After Voldemort's downfall, McGonagall creates a new house, forcing the students to join together and look past their differences. Little does she know the danger creating such a house puts everyone in. The three unlikely friends will soon discover what destiny has in store. A collaborative effort following the adventure from three different points of view._

**Prologue Part 1: Lovelyn**

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><p>"Master and Mistress wish to see Miss in the study, Miss," whispered a house elf from the bedroom door. With a sigh, Lovelyn Fox put down the magazine she was reading and rose from the lounging position she was enjoying on her bed. The usual teenage wizarding fandom posters covered her walls, with signed photos of her favorite quidditch players fastened around her floor-length mirror. The Bulgarian Keeper blew her a kiss as she walked past it. Her desk was cluttered in some semi-organized disarray of odds and ins, but her vanity was perfectly organized with every trinket safely tucked away in its own container. She liked to have things organized, but often her desk became so disorganized from regular use. The bedspread mirrored her personality on most days with a deep red accented with black and white bold stripes, but her walls were a simple shade of cream. The house elf at the door fidgeted before continuing, "Shall I inform Master and Mistress that Miss is on her way?"<p>

"Yes, do inform them," Lovelyn exhaled, approaching the door to her room. The small elf held the door for her before quietly shutting it behind them and then hurrying ahead to announce her approach to the master and mistress of the house. Any other teen may have argued with the house elf for trying to trip over itself for Lovelyn. However, Lovelyn was unlike many other teens. Although she didn't pay much mind to her family tree, Lovelyn knew that she came from a long line of pureblood witches and wizards, but unlike a number of pureblood witches and wizards, Lovelyn also had a worthy inheritance to go along with it.

With a sigh, Lovelyn pushed the sleeves of her cashmere sweater from her elbows back down to her wrists. Her shoes tapped quietly down the lavishly decorated tile hallways and down the gorgeous grand stair as Lovelyn made her way to the study. To be precise, it wasn't "the" study since there were several within the Fox home, but it was the only one regularly used by both her mother and her father when they wanted an audience with their daughter. They also used it for brief visits with guests who would only be stopping by for a few minutes. Lovelyn had always thought that it was a little silly how many formalities had to be acknowledged within her family since they were not only wealthy but also of pure wizarding blood. She would be free of all of the formalities soon, but of course she didn't know that.

As she approached the study, she quieted her footsteps to barely a whisper. She was sure she could hear someone having an argument, but it couldn't be her parents; they would find it very improper to argue anywhere but behind closed doors. Though she had to admit that the voices seemed to be somewhat hushed in comparison to normal arguments.

"A teacher, Phineas?!" heard Lovelyn. It was most definitely her mother's voice.

"He was disowned by my family. I am of no relation to him any longer. He is none of my concern." came her father's harsh but stern voice.

"Oh, but Phineas! A teacher! For children of magical families!" exclaimed Lovelyn's mother once more. The argument might have went on if Lovelyn's shoes hadn't squeaked against the floor to announce her arrival.

"Lovelyn Marie?" came the soft voice of her mother. "You have mail, dearest."

_Disowned?_ she thought as she finally entered the study. _I wonder what all that was about!_ But she dare not ask, and so the topic was tucked away for some other time.

With a soft curtsy, Lovelyn acknowledged her parents and awaited their cue. They sat upon an antique loveseat. There was a small table in front of the loveseat with more seating on either side. The tall windows had light flowing drapes to let the sun into the room. The few bookcases furnishing the room where against the same wall the window was with the mirroring wall showing off some painted portraits of long deceased ancestors.

With a motion of his strong hand, Phineas Fox motioned for his daughter to seat herself. The firm and unfriendly look on his face was normal, as was the formal jacket he wore over his buttoned silk shirt. Cold grey eyes that mirrored Lovelyn's complimented his silver cuff links. His brown hair was of course perfectly combed. A quick glance at his shoes would show only her own reflection, Lovelyn was sure of that. She had many memories of her mother helping to heal and bandage the house elves Phineas had beaten when his shoes were not polished to satisfaction.

Beside him, Lucretzia Fox wore her usual neatly painted smile and gentle yet tired blue eyes. Her naturally curled strawberry hair was wound tightly into a neat bun on the back of her head. She looked almost like a porcelain doll with her neat, lace-covered dress, but the effect was ruined with the obvious wear on her face. Years of dealing with her husband's anger and unquestionable authority seemed to wear her down. With him beside her, she was only his pretty, submissive, and loyal wife. When he wasn't nearby to command her, her true beauty came out with a confident smile that would stop you in your tracks. Lucretzia was the one Lovelyn truly admired, but Lovelyn often wished her mother would stand up to her controlling husband. Never once would Lovelyn whisper even a word against the stern man, however.

"Lovelyn, dearest, open your letters." The same house elf from earlier peeked out from behind a chair to hand Lovelyn the two envelopes. With only a glance at them, Lovelyn knew what they were. The parchment-colored envelope had the Hogwarts seal on the close, and the light blue-envelope with elegant script had the Beauxbaton seal on the close. They were her acceptance letters for school.

"Beauxbaton is clearly the better choice of the two," said Phineas Fox, firmly, as Lovelyn quickly read both of the acceptance letters.

"And their dress uniforms are so stately!" exclaimed Lucretzia, as she softly clapped her hands together to emphasize her point. "As a Beauxbaton Alumni-" but Lovelyn cut her off.

"I'm going to Hogwarts." Lovelyn said firmly.

"Beauxbaton will give you an extra year to study for your OWLs," reasoned Lucretzia, "they will also be sure you are fully equipped to handle any formal-" but Lovelyn cut her off again.

"I'm going to Hogwarts." she said again.

"If I wrote to Madame Maxime, I'm sure I could convince her to-" once more, Lucretzia tried to encourage her daughter to follow with the will of the head of house. Once more, however, Lovelyn made it clear that she was having none of that.

"I will go to Hogwarts," Lovelyn said softly, handing the light blue letter to the nearby elf to dispose of, "It is ultimately my decision, not yours. So I will go to the school of my choice, and that is final." She wasn't going to argue this. She was going to Hogwarts. They wouldn't waste her time with classes on proper etiquette and ladies attire for the upper classes in the wizarding community. They would teach her magic and things which Lovelyn dubbed a great deal more important and worth her time. Lovelyn recrossed her ankles and smoothed her wrinkle-free skirt, waiting for the rebuttal.

"If you go to Hogwarts," started Phineas, "then you will go to the same house I did." He was never one for many words. His point was always made clear. He had many others to do the arguing for him. His wife was one of them.

Lovelyn scowled in response.

"Yes! Slytherin is a nice house. The best in Hogwarts, I should say!" as if on cue, Lucretzia took up the new argument like a songbird would pick up a tune.

"The sorting hat-" Lovelyn started to argue only for her father to interrupt her firmly.

"Will sort you into the house you ask it to. Slytherin is in your blood." said Phineas. Lovelyn could tell that his patience was growing thin, yet she still had to try.

"The hat will only-" she started again.

"You will do as I say, daughter. If you will not go to Beauxbaton, you will see to it that you are put into the house made for Purebloods: Slytherin. We are finished," with a wave of dismissal, that was it. Lovelyn knew that she could get away with arguing which school she would go to since, indeed, it was her decision alone, but she also knew that her father would force her to follow his rule in some way. This time, it would be which house she was sorted into since that was the one thing he could control in this situation.

Lovelyn took leave of her parent's company to head back to her room. There was no point in trying to argue any further. Phineas would not physically harm his own daughter, but that didn't mean there were not ways in which he would still prove his point to her. Lovelyn had once tried asking her mother about her father's role in the Second Wizarding War, but Lucretzia would only smile and encourage Lovelyn to focus on more important topics. Lovelyn was sure that such a vicious man as he must have been a supporter of the dark side in one way or another, even if only financially. But her mother would never confirm such a thing since even only whispers of such a thing could result in an inquiry from the Ministry of Magic.

Shutting the door behind her, Lovelyn couldn't help but to stomp her foot. As childish of an act as it was, it was one of the few things she could do to vent her anger. She used to throw things, but her father would reprimand the house elves for breaking the items. She used to scream, cry, and throw a huge fuss, but Phineas made sure the screams of the elves would be louder as he burned their hands and ears. Although many of the other families they socialized with confirmed that house elves were only objects or possessions used to cater to their whims, Lovelyn learned through her mother's actions that house elves were creatures that possessed wishes, dreams, fears, and that felt pain just like any other being. When she had discovered this, she felt it was wrong to abuse them as her father did, possessions or not. She wouldn't destroy a shoe because she stubbed her toe, nor would she tear apart her comforter because it rolled off of her in the night. Thus, she had decided, it was wrong to discipline the elves where they had no control over what had gone wrong.

Simmering, Lovelyn clenched her fists and stomped her foot down once more. She would go to Hogwarts. She would not be his little pureblood heiress. She refused to mimic him in his ways, but she also refused to quietly submit to his will as her mother did.

Lovelyn would go to Hogwarts and she would make sure that she would be put into any house but Slytherin.

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><p><em>Hurray! The Prologue (part 1) is finished!<br>Jdwest91 and Niros The Mad Warlock have been a great pleasure to write with so far! We decided to do the beginning chapters (prologues pt 1-3 and chapters 1-3) from the separate views so that you, the reader, can get to know our characters and their stories better. We felt this was necessary as all our characters will be playing a major role in the unfolding story. __After these initial chapters are finished, we will be alternating views for the remaining chapters to hopefully keep things interesting.__  
>Hope you enjoy reading this as much as we enjoy writing it!<br>-GG_

_This Chapter was written by GrumpyGirl314_  
>u1201199/


	2. Prologue Part 2: Ambrose

**A collaborative effort with jdwest91 and Niros The Mad Warlock.**

**Prologue Part 2: Ambrose**

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><p>It was dinner time at 39 Orchard Road, Dagenham London, and soup was on the menu. Homemade vegetable soup. However good the soup was, the eleven year old named Ambrose had something else on his mind. The brown haired boy had nearly inhaled his soup and had asked to excused at least three times so far to no success.<p>

"Are you full?" Karen Ward, his mother, asked before having another spoonful of soup. Ambrose sat across from his mother, a short chubby woman with a long braid of hair, and he squirmed in his seat.

"Yes, Mom" he answered, glancing down at his empty bowl, "all full."

"You won't be hungry later?" she asked. Ambrose could see the grin behind her neutral expression. She knew he was excited, and she enjoyed teasing her son. So, she kept him at the table for as long as she could. "I don't want you roaming around later on looking for food."

"No Mom, I wo-"

"I'm off to work, honey," Ambrose's father, John, announced as he walked to the table as he buttoned up the shirt of his petrol station uniform. John towered over the table, and the muscles he had gotten from working so many jobs made him appear to be a very scary man. The truth was, he was far from what he appeared. Ambrose's father bent down to kiss his wife.

"Be good, son," he said as he ruffled Ambrose's shaggy hair before leaving for his evening job. He wouldn't be home until much later that night after Ambrose had fallen asleep.

"Mom," Ambrose started after his father was gone, "May I go _now_?"

"Did you finish your chores?" his mother asked quickly.

"Yes. All done," he replied while rolling his eyes before adding, "And I already asked Mrs. Smith if she needed anything done," before she could ask. Mrs. Smith was their elderly neighbor. She always gave Ambrose a few coins for doing yard work.

"Very well. Enjoy your comic book," his mother said very slowly, just to tease the boy a little more.

"Thanks, I love you, bye!" The moment he finished speaking, his foot was already on the bottom stair, and he climbed with the haste and enthusiasm that came from being an eleven year old boy being kept from his prize until now.

Ambrose leapt into his bed and snatched the comic book that was laying there waiting for him. He squealed in delight, holding the book cover high in the air. It featured his favorite superhero in his latest conquest against the forces of evil. It was so hard for him to follow the series since he couldn't afford the comics himself. Thankfully, however, his mother had a coworker whose son also loved this particular superhero and was able to buy each new edition. When that boy was done, the book exchanged hands until it ended up in Ambrose's and he was able to see what happens to his hero this time!

A frown formed on Ambrose's lips after he opened the cover. His frown deepened after he turned page after page. Each page was ruined with pen or marker scribbles. Some were torn up in a way that they wouldn't fall out of the closed book. Others had splotches of what Ambrose _hoped_ was spit. A few even had some nasty language written on them. The message was loud and clear: the original owner was tired of Ambrose "stealing" his comics, and he had resorted to vandalism as a deterrent. Ambrose let out a heavy sigh and tossed the book to the floor. Part of him was relieved neither mother had bothered to check inside the book. He didn't want to cause any trouble, and if the other kid wanted to keep his comics, that was his choice. Tomorrow, he'll just have to tell his mother that this was the finale or something and that he didn't need anymore comics.

Ambrose disliked being poor, but there wasn't much he could do to help his parents except to continue his stupid schooling and make the most of it. The boy hated going to school almost as much as he hated being poor. It just felt so useless to him, but his parents insisted that if he stuck with it, he'd get into better schools later and eventually get a great, well-paying job. It was all he had to go on right now.

His thoughts were interrupted as a friend decided now would be a good time to join Ambrose in his room. A cat, to be exact, with a coat as black as the night and green eyes that shone brightly against her fur. She leapt through the window, pausing to stare at the closed bedroom door. Satisfied it wouldn't be opened anytime soon, she approached the discarded comic and considered it for a moment. It didn't hold her attention for long before she hopped up onto the bed and sat next to Ambrose. Ambrose didn't react to her presence soon enough for her liking. She eventually gave a soft 'meow' and placed her tiny paw on his arm.

"Hey, Mera," Ambrose greeted the cat by cupping her cheek in his palm and scratching behind her ear. She, of course, loved the attention and purred accordingly. "I'm sorry. We had soup today. I couldn't steal you any leftovers." If Mera could understand that she wasn't getting any food from him tonight, she didn't care. She was content with getting affection at that moment.

Truth was, Mera wasn't actually Ambrose's cat. She was a young stray and barely a kitten when he had found her a year and a half ago on the way home from school. When he found her, she was so messed-up looking, dirty, and mangy that she didn't even look like a real cat. She almost looked like a chimera: a creature made up from the parts of other creatures. He ended up naming her after the creature but favored Mera for short. Ambrose took her home that day, washed her up, and nursed her back to health. He fed her any scraps of food from dinner or leftovers he could sneak away from the table for her. Ambrose even bought her a green collar and a small tag with her name on it using money he saved from doing yard work for the neighbor. When Mera was strong enough she left. To Ambrose's surprise, she came back the next day and every day after that. She always came back eventually.

Ambrose patted Mera on the head and crawled off his bed, propping his back against it. He picked up the comic again and stared at it for a few moments debating if he should try to read it or not. This could be his last comic for a very VERY long time and getting one more taste might be nice. On the other hand, the comic he had read last week had been unmarred by vandalism, and his time with his favorite hero was still _pure_. Did he really want to ruin that memory now? He really wished he could read this last book without it being ruined.

With another heavy sigh, he flipped open the cover again and gasped.

The first page!

The first page was CLEAN!

The ink was gone!

Once again, he thumbed through page after page. The ink, the rips, the nasty language, and even the spit was gone! How could this have happened? Was he just imagining it before? Was he dreaming now? No, a pinch to his arm assured him he wasn't dreaming, but here it was! The book was repaired and one hundred percent legible. He almost didn't care how or why.

Ambrose read the comic as slowly as he could. He savored every single moment of it-and the ending! It was amazing! One read-through wasn't enough and neither was two. Ambrose didn't stop until he read the book four times. He still considered it his last comic. Before he could start a fifth flip through the pages, he nodded off suddenly, inexplicably tired.

"Ambrose… Ambrose, baby. Wake up." Mrs. Ward shook her son. Ambrose jumped, a little startled. He didn't even remember falling asleep. "You shouldn't sleep like that, you'll hurt your back," his mother lectured. There was a moment of panic as he looked around his room for Mera but relaxed when he didn't see her. Ambrose yawned.

"What time is it?" he asked as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's a little after eight, baby and… what did you do to your comic book?" his mother picked up the comic and quickly scanned it, gasping as she reached the foul language in the back.

"It was like that when I got it," Ambrose defended himself before his mother could lecture him on something he didn't do. "Don't worry about next week, mom. I don't need another comic." Mrs. Ward stared at the comic thoughtfully before tossing it in the trash.

"Come on, baby," Ambrose's mother helped him to his feet, "We have a visitor with a letter for you. Something about a school for gifted children. Come on. Up, up. Best to make a good impression." Karen ushered her son out of his room and down the stairs. Ambrose could tell she was very excited about the prospect of him going to a special school. Better schooling meant better education, and that meant better job opportunities, right?

Ambrose didn't notice the stranger sitting on the couch until he was at the bottom step. He couldn't see the guest's face, but Ambrose could see he was a tall, thin man wearing a rather fancy maroon suit. His long, silvery-blond hair was combed straight back and held together by an elastic tie just under his neck line. His posture was so rigid and straight that Ambrose would bet the man had a ruler taped to his spine. The man turned and smiled as Ambrose and his mother approached. The man stood just as they were within arms reach and extended his hand to the boy.

"Hello, I'm Ambrose Ward," Ambrose said with gathered courage and took the man's hand in greeting as he felt his mother hands on his shoulders. "It's nice to meet you." The man smiled shaking Ambrose's hand.

"Please, you two sit and talk," Mrs. Ward started, "Oops. I mean, um… Would you like some tea Professor Atramor?" The man smiled and shook his head to decline before retaking his seat on the couch and placing an open notepad and pen in his own lap. "Ok. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." Which was a rather silly thing of her to say, Ambrose thought, because being in the kitchen meant she was just 'over there'. There wasn't anything separating the kitchen from the living room.

'Professor Atramor' gestured to the ragged blue chair that was to his right. Ambrose slowly slid into the chair, suddenly very aware of his posture and took the effort to make sure it was close to perfect. Ambrose sat there waiting for the man to speak, but he did not. Instead, he handed Ambrose a piece of paper with a few lines of the curviest handwriting Ambrose had ever seen, along with a sealed envelope. The paper read:

_Good evening, Mr. Ward._

_Please forgive my reliance on pen and paper. I am mute and cannot speak on my own. They usually have someone else do this, but they are sick it seems. Summer bug. And I was the only one available to fill in on such short notice._

_I am Professor Atramor. I teach at a school for special youngsters, you see. It's called Hogwarts, and very few children from the general public get accepted. This is what brings me here today. _

_Now, please keep in mind that you should have gotten this letter over a month ago. As I said, the one responsible for your area is ill and the stubborn blockhead didn't want to admit it until it was too late. Because of this mistake, you have been given additional time to accept, should you and your family wish. It's a big choice, I understand..._

_Please, open your letter._

"Ok," Ambrose said a little nervously. He broke the red wax seal and removed the contents. The first thing he noticed was 'seal' of the school "Hogwarts," and below that, it read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_Of WITCHCRAFT And WIZARDRY_

_Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall_

_Dear Mr. Ward,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed the list of all necessary books and equipment._

_We await your owl by no later than July 31st. Term starts September 1st._

_Sincerely_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

Ambrose was a little lost for words. Magic? This didn't seem real. How could this POSSIBLY be real? He had his hopes held high of going to a REAL school that actually felt WORTH something, but instead those hopes were smashed by a letter to a school for _MAGIC_!

"Is this some sort of joke?" he asked in a low whisper. "Hogwarts school of WIZARDRY?! Magic, really? You expect me to believe that?"

"D-Did you say Hogwarts?" Mrs. Ward had stopped what she was doing and took a step into the living room, clutching a dish towel.

"Is this a scam or something?" Ambrose asked, trying to understand what was going on. "Magic isn't real!" he growled. If anything, he wasn't angry for himself but for his mother. He knew she was hoping for something special to happen for her son more than anyone else. Atramor scribbled onto his notepad. Ambrose caught a glimpse of "This is no joke. Magic is very real." There was more but Ambrose was too upset to care. "Get out, you con artist!"

'_Professor'_ Atramor sighed and wrote one last thing in large letters. He tore the page out and tossed it to Ambrose's feet. The man stood, took a few steps away, and faced Ambrose with determination. Atramor reached into his jacket and pulled out a thin black stick. With a grin and a quick thrust of his thumb, the stick twirled around his index and then middle finger until the thicker base landed in his palm. Ambrose glanced down at the paper to see "No other choice".

Atramor held onto the stick and flicked his wrist once. Ambrose jumped from his seat, and his mother let out a gasp. The chair he had been sitting in, and had sat in for most of his life, was different. The ragged blue chair that was easily double his age was now RED and in pristine condition. He stared in shock and then back to the man as Atramor, once again, retook his seat on the couch. Atramor gestured to the piece of paper Ambrose was standing on. When the boy moved his foot, he saw the previous writing was completely gone. Instead, there were three large words taking up the whole page, shining with a rainbow of colors and written in an other worldly ink. The words were "Magic is REAL".

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><p><em>This Chapter was written by Niros The Mad Warlock<em>  
>u826340/


	3. Prologue Part 3: Tyler

**A collaborative effort with jdwest91 and Niros The Mad Warlock.**

**Prologue Part 3: Tyler Gets a Visitor **

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><p>Tyler awoke in his full-sized bed in the flat his parents owned in Stafford. Across the way was Rowley Park, and he could see it from the window in his tiny room. It would be more accurate to say you could see the tree tops from the window since their home was a couple blocks away. When he looked out the window today, one of the final Fridays before school started up again in the fall, it was like any other day: hot and muggy. Slowly, he shuffled downstairs to greet his mom and dad with breakfast.<p>

When Tyler finally made his way downstairs, sleep still in his eye, his nostrils filled with the normal scent of bacon and eggs cooking. The porridge was already in the middle of the table, piping hot in its pan. Setting down two hot pads, Tyler's mom laid down a plate each of scrambled eggs and bacon before turning back around and bringing the tea. Pouring a cup first for Tyler's dad, who graciously accepted, then for Tyler and finally for herself, she sat as everyone filled their plates.

The small family ate their breakfast and drank their tea in amicable silence. Tyler's father read the paper, while his mother wrote down the day's list of chores to be completed. Knowing that he would need to complete some of them before taking off to the park, Tyler quickly finished and looked to his mom.

"What do I have for today?" Tyler asked her, eager to get the chores done.

"Today, it's time to weed the garden, and we need to pick the vegetables that are ready," She told him with ease. It was a normal thing for them to work in the garden together, something both of them looked forward to. "But first, I need you to wash these dishes. I cooked breakfast, and your father has to head to work. You do that while I get the tools out of the shed."

And thats how the day went. They worked in the garden for quite some time. The sun was overhead, and sweat beaded on both their brows when his mother spoke up, "It's time to head in for lunch. You go get yourself cleaned up while I put these things away. Be sure to grab the harvest."

Tyler did as he was told, and grabbed the handful of peppers, tomatoes, cucumber and even a zucchini and carried them inside and sat them on the counter. He washed up quickly and hurried back down to the kitchen, eager to eat and be on his way to the park.

The mother and son ate in peace, no conversation passing as they ravenously devoured their salads with some of the fresh veggies from the garden. Tyler finished the meal, and heard a knock at the door. He looked up and gave his mom a questioning look. She shrugged.

"Coming, just one moment," his mother called to the visitor as she stood up from the table, leaving her plate where it lay. Tyler quickly followed suit, curious as to who could be calling at this hour and with such a piercing knock.

His mother reached the doorway and opened it, greeting the stranger at the door. "Hello, how can I help you?" Lydia asked.

Tyler looked at the woman from where he stood behind his mom. He could easily make out the stranger's features as she was at least a head taller than his mom. Her hair was once black, or so it seemed, but now there were equal parts of silver and grey sprinkled in along with the black. Tyler couldn't help but think of a cat when he looked at her. Perhaps it was the way she stood? Or perhaps it was her eyes, big and yellow, that made him think of a feline.

"Hello, my name is Madam Rolanda Hooch, flying instructor for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She held her hand out to Tyler, which he took slowly. "I have been sent here by Headmistress McGonagall to inform you that you are a wizard, and have been invited to attend Hogwarts this year."

Madam Hooch held out an envelope addressed to him bearing a crest of arms depicting a badger, an eagle, a snake, and a lion. The letter H stood strong and proud in the center of the animals. Tyler began to examine the letter, reading over each detail, and then looked at the school list that was supplied. One word drew his attention and like a moth to a flame, and he could scarcely take his eyes away from it: "wand." He was to get a magic wand!

Tyler was in his own world. He had read the letter once already and immediately reread it, looking for any detail he might had missed. Madam Hooch on the other hand, had turned her attention to Tyler's mother.

"You must be Lydia. It is very nice to meet you. I have been informed by the Headmistress that both she and Mr. Ogden have already been in contact with you. Correct?" Madam Hooch said to Tyler's mom in hushed tones.

"Please come in," Lydia said to the visitor as she motioned to their sitting room.

"So, let me get this all straight... I have magical powers? Like, can I turn people into toads?" Tyler asked, looking rather excited. He followed the pair to the sitting room and attempted to make himself comfortable in an armchair adjacent to the one Madam Hooch chose. "Can I pull rabbits out of a hat? How about give someone a tail?" With each question the glint of mischief in his eyes grew.

"All that and more," Madam Hooch said.

Tyler looked at his mom, the question in his eyes, _Is this woman nutters? Or could I really be a wizard?_ She nodded in response to his silent question. He turned his gaze back to Madam Hooch, "What do you mean, 'more'?"

Madam Hooch drew what looked like a twig out from her robe and pointed it at the lamp sitting on the table next to where Tyler sat. Moments later, the lamp shifted into a large, brightly colored parrot. Tyler leaned towards it and poked at the wing closest to him. The 'lamp-parrot' shook its head, agitated. He leaned in staring into its eye and poked the bird once more. When he did, it lashed out and gave him a sharp bite on the nose.

"Oi! Ruddy bird!" Tyler screamed as he backed up. He felt where the bird had bit him. Everything seemed to be there, and now, he had to get some questions answered. He thought for a moment, quiet, keeping an eye on the lamp-bird. Finally, Tyler opened his mouth, "How did you do that? Well, I know magic, but _how_?"

"You'll learn that in your fifth year. Turning inanimate objects into any number of things is quite useful when the need arises." Madam Hooch told him.

"You said you were the flying instructor, right? Go on then. Let's see some flying." Tyler said a bit too forcefully.

Madam Hooch tightened her smile, but in no other way made any indication that she was aggravated by Tyler's tone. Instead, she answered, "One does not simply fly. You need a broom, my dear boy."

"We fly on brooms? For real? Do we make them too?" Tyler said, thinking of the witches he pictured around Halloween with their twiggy old brooms made with knobbly wood.

Madam Hooch let out a hearty laugh, "Silly boy! Making a broom fit to fly takes years of knowledge. Now, thats enough for one day. I know you have more questions, but remember this: with magic, it is often better to experience rather than be told." Madam Hooch then stood and smoothed her robes.

"You have a very lovely home, Lydia. Thank you for allowing me to visit," she said warmly. After she turned to Tyler she said, "And you, sir. I look forward to seeing you this new term. Do remember, though, you cannot bring a broom your first year." With that, she saw herself to the door before either Lydia or Tyler could get up. Both Tyler and Lydia sat there. The abrupt exit took them off guard.

Lydia was the first to speak, "Well then, a wizard! My boy, a wizard!" The look of pride was evident on her face. She smiled and had what was almost a look of sadness at the opportunities that this new world would present.

Tyler's head was in complete disarray. His mother bought into this, so it had to be true. Magic was real-not that he hadn't always wished it was-but now he _knew_ that it was real! He saw a woman turn a lamp into a _**bird**_. He looked up at his mother.

"Do you think it's okay for me to go to the park now?" Tyler asked. He wasn't as enthusiastic as he was this morning but knew that he did some of his best thinking while playing there. That's what he needed right now: to think.

Lydia thought about it for only a moment, "Of course you can. Be sure not to tell anyone about what we learned today, though; not everyone would understand, and we don't want you to be hurt because of it."

Tyler nodded and was out the door before any more words could be said. He sprinted down the road to the park and went to his favorite swing. It was high enough up to where his long legs didn't hit the ground, and he had to jump up a bit to get his bottom in the seat. And there he sat, swinging, letting the back and forth motions lead his thoughts through the complicated ideas that were introduced to him today

It was around six in the evening when Tyler ran through the door and into the kitchen of their flat. His mom and dad were sitting at the table drinking tea. It looked like his mother had been crying. The tears were gone now, and there was only the faint sign of wetness in her eyes. His dad looked stoic, but smiled at his son when he came in.

"I hear we have a wizard in the family now! Wait until grams and gramps hear about this. They'll be so proud!" His father beamed, but somehow he looked a bit reserved, like there was something that he wasn't telling Tyler. "In fact, why don't you and your mom go out for some pie and tea to celebrate? Tomorrow, we can all go out for a proper celebration dinner after we get your school things."

Tyler's eyes lit up. He loved going to get pie with his mom. The tradition started as soon as his little legs could take the walk there and back. They headed out the door, walking with their arms linked, Tyler escorting his mom the entire way.

Soon, they were in the little bakery that held small cafe tables for their dine-in customers. Pictures of different local children's football teams donned the walls, all of their jerseys featuring the bakery's logo. The windows were covered with sheer blue curtains allowing for some light to still fall through. They walked up to the counter and placed their order, both choosing their favorites: Tyler a slice of blueberry with crumb topping and Lydia one of butterscotch. After the pies were paid for, the pair walked over to a small table in the corner.

Before long, the waitress came over with their desserts. She set them down in front of the pair and was off after bidding them good day. Lydia waited for her son to take his first bite before speaking, "Tyler, I have something to tell you." She waited until he nodded to continue, "Madam Hooch coming today was no surprise. Not long ago, I was contacted via owl by Headmistress McGonagall. She said that your name had appeared on a list of magical children whom are to be invited to attend Hogwarts."

"You mean you _knew_?" Tyler said through a mouthful of blueberry pie.

"Let me finish," Lydia admonished. "Yes, I knew, but I could hardly believe her! Magic! And a school called Hogwarts?! It was prosperous! Nonetheless, the letter stated that there was an odd circumstance to do with your name, and so she wanted to contact someone else in the wizarding community who may have more insight-with my consent of course." She stopped to take a bite of her pie. She chewed it longer than she intended, but needed more time to think of how to word the next part, so she swallowed and took another bite. By the time the second bite had finished, she knew how she would continue. "The Headmistress continued in her letter to say that a member of the staff would stop by within a few days to explain everything to you and that I should be expecting them."

"Okay, so you knew," Tyler continued on, "that doesn't seem too bad."

"There's more," Lydia told her son. "After I sent a reply that it was okay for her to inform the other wizard-because in all honesty, I still didn't believe a word that she said! Nor did I think that the owl would actually make itself back to her. So why not just go along? But, not even an hour after sending the reply, I received a second owl. This one was from the brother of a man I used to know. It started out rather pleasant; he asked about my health and told me he was doing well. After that, though, he started to tell me about how his brother had kept a journal, and some time after his brother's death, he began to read it. Towards the end, there was a passage about how he had met a wonderful muggle woman and how they spent a glorious week together. But then he was called away to work on a case in Romania on a Dragon Preserve, so he had to leave the woman. The man also explained that while his brother was in Romania, though, he stumbled into the brood of a nesting mother and was quickly incinerated. But, nine months later, his branch on the family tree grew an offshoot with a picture of a baby boy and the name 'Baby Ogden' where the given name would normally appear."

Shakily, she took a deep breath. Barely understanding the words she had said prior, she forged on, because she knew that this conversation was going to get harder before it was easier. She took one more deep breath before she spoke, "The muggle woman who had an amazing week with his brother was me, and that would make you his nephew and that man your father. Which makes you half wizard." She concluded.

Tyler's world started spinning. Everything that was ceased to be. He had thought his mother was taking all of this too casually. First, when it was just the Headmistress contacting her that was okay. Now that he found out that his father wasn't his actual father, and his mom had known but not said anything, he felt betrayed.

He was numb; the walk ingrained so deeply into his memory that his legs took him there automatically. It was quiet this time, though. In one day, he had gained an entire world, lost a father he never knew he had, and gained a new uncle. Completely in his own world, he headed to the washroom upstairs in their flat to get ready for bed even though it was only seven in the evening. A knock came to the door, followed by a voice.

"Tyler, you left before I could tell you. There was more to the letter," his mother's voice was soft, but not so soft that he couldn't hear. "We're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow at ten. We'll be leaving here and meeting up with your Uncle beforehand, so be ready to meet him tomorrow."

Tyler finished his shower soon after his mom left. Still half in a daze, he walked to his room after drying off. He opened the dresser with robotic motions, proceeded to get dressed, and then laid down in his bed. Tyler looked up at his ceiling, his mind still blank and unable to process the words that had been spoken. After some amount of time had passed, he drifted to sleep with the hope that maybe tomorrow this would all make sense.

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><p><em>This Chapter written by jdwest91.<em>  
>u/4742431/


	4. Chapter 1

**A collaborative effort with jdwest91 and Niros The Mad Warlock.**

**Chapter 1: Ambrose's First Trip to Diagon**

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><p>Ambrose stared wide eyed at the ceiling of his bedroom. He hadn't been able to do much more than that since Professor Atramor had left. A few hours before that he had been a normal boy on a normal summer break, waiting to go back to his normal school. Now… now he had no idea what he was. The professor and even his own mother had called him a wizard. It was shocking how fast his mom had accepted the fact that magic was real, Hogwarts existed and Ambrose was going to be a wizard.<p>

She signed the extensive paperwork connected with letting one's child attend a Wizarding school before the Professor left, despite insisting that they sleep on the matter and give it a few days thought. She was so gleeful that her son was going somewhere where most could not that she did not catch the Professor's reason. His mother was just so happy her son was going to be someone amazing in the world. Perhaps even a _famous_ wizard, maybe? She had convinced herself that wizards were rich or that all the richest people were in fact wizards or witches, and her SON was going to be among them! Ambrose noticed the Professor had tried to break her from this leap of logic, but his mother seemed to ignore it. When she got like this, it was pointless to try to break her away from an idea, despite how delusional it may be.

Ambrose needed to know how she was accepting this so fast while he was still shell shocked, so he asked her. His mom's response came after she dug an old wooden box from the storage. It was quite old, and dust had gathered in the swoops and swirls that had been carved into its surface. She explained that when she was younger than Ambrose was now, her grandmother would tell the most amazing stories to her and her sister. Unbelievable stories about magic, a world unseen by normal people and an amazing place called Hogwarts. She always believed the stories were true and now considered the recent events as proof. Her great grandmother was really a witch!

Ambrose's mother handed him the box and told him it used to belong to her grandmother. Unfortunately, the lock was broken, and it would not open. It hadn't been opened even once as far as she could remember. She told Ambrose the box had been passed down from mother to daughter since the original owner had it. Since his great grandmother was a witch and Ambrose was soon to be a Wizard, his mother thought the box was better in his hands than hers. Plus, she didn't plan on having any more children, so there was little chance of having a daughter to give it to.

The last part was a joke, but Ambrose's mind was swimming too much to laugh.

The only possessions left of his witch great grandmother was his now. When everything was said and done, Ambrose's mother shooed him to his room, and he didn't argue. She said they would be visiting the place the Professor had spoken of the following day and that Ambrose needed his sleep. Tomorrow, they were going to Diagon Alley.

But sleep was proving difficult. For him, anyway. Mera, who had been hiding under his bed, was sound asleep nestled between his arm and body. The still-closed box was at the foot of his bed. Ambrose hadn't even tried to open it yet. He didn't want to break the lock and had no idea what to expect.

That was pretty much his thought on everything so far.

He had no idea what to expect.

The last thing that went through the boy's mind before he finally drifted off was something the professor had told him; "Some wizards look down on muggles, non-magical folks. You come from a muggle world with muggle parents. As such, unfortunately, you may not be too popular with such wizards."

Ambrose had no idea what to expect...

It was very early the next morning, at least a few hours before Ambrose would have woken up during the school year, and he was pretty sure he was the only sane one left his his family. It was ridiculous how fast his mother had talked his father into the craziness. Now his father was just as excited that his son was going to be a famous, rich, parent-supporting wizard someday. Ambrose had a dreadful feeling that they were hoping for too much and would have to explain how things really worked one day. That day was still far off as he knew so little about the wizard world.

Ambrose sat in his bed watching Mera lick her paw. There wasn't much else he could do at the moment. His friends weren't up yet, and his parents had left for the bank a few moments ago to withdraw the savings they had built up. They were going to need it for Ambrose's school supplies, and Ambrose felt terrible in how fast they were willing to put the little money they had into this _wizard_ schooling.

Fed up with doing nothing, Ambrose picked up his great grandma's old box and pulled it into his lap. It was time to see what was inside.

If there was no key, he'd try to remove the hinges. No, that wouldn't do. There was no access to them while the box was closed. Fortunately the lock looked like it needed a simple skeleton key which meant it could be very easy to open. It was just a matter of slipping in a screwdriver, finding the right angle and turning it slowly. Ambrose just needed to find a screwdriver and he'd have the box open in no time.

He slid to the side of his bed and was about to run down stairs with the box under his arm when the lid cracked open..

Ambrose couldn't believe it. How did could it of opened so easily? How could his mother or his grandma not manage to open the darn box when all it took was holding it upright? He'd have to ask her when she got home and probably tease a little.

Ambrose paused before he thumbed the box open all the way. It hadn't been opened since his great grandma closed it. Whatever was inside, he was the first person to see the content in a few generations. Whatever was inside used to belong to a real, magic using, spell castings witch! Biting his lower lip, Ambrose slowly lifted the lid.

And the contents were rather anticlimactic. There were just three items inside; a thin stick like the professor had, a brown leather-bound journal and a silver chain. Ambrose felt a little silly for thinking anything crazy or magical could have been left in the box for all these years.

Ambrose picked up stick to examine it. It was stiff, straight and made of a polished, warm colored wood. The handle had a blackened, scratch-like spiral carved in the surface. A tarnished metal band embedded in the wood separated the handle from the majority of the rest. Ambrose held the stick like Professor Atramor had held his.

"This might of been her wand," he said absently, waving it around but quickly stopping when the discarded comic book in his trash pall caught his eye. Fixing that book, even temporarily, had been an accident. Waving around something that wizards use to do actual magic stuff was probably dangerous. He placed the wand back in the box. A wand was on the list of supplies he needed. With any luck he could use this one instead of having to buy a new one.

Ambrose picked up the chain next and found a tiny pendant at the end. The pendant featured a rather savage-looking cat. In the cat's protective grasp was a single teardrop-shaped purple gem that was slightly smaller than the cat itself. The cat kind of reminded Ambrose of Mera, who was still busy grooming herself, before she started to trust him. She wasn't that friendly before then.

A horrible little thought crept into Ambrose's mind. He actually considered selling the necklace to pay for his school supplies so maybe his parents wouldn't have to pay as much. Who knew how much the thing was worth but every bit helps, right? He already felt guilty for having them pay for his stuff, and now he felt guilty for wanting to sell such a sentimental item from someone who was no longer with them. It was a lose-lose either way. Maybe his mom would want to keep the necklace instead.

The journal was smaller than the average notebook but thick. It looked quite expensive as well. Ambrose had no idea where to look to buy a journal made with leather like this or even how much it would have cost. However, it looked very worn with use; the edges of the covers and bends in the binding had lost their color and were soft to the touch. The journal clearly had a lot of use before his great grandmother had placed it in the box.

The inside of the journal, however, seemed untouched. Every page was clean, crisp and had no writing on it whatsoever. It was as if it was brand new; a quality betrayed by the old cover. Ambrose eventually closed the journal. He juggled it between his hands for a few moments and idly opened the book just to see if he had missed something. Ambrose tilted his head trying to figure out what he was looking it, and found text that was definitely not there before. "Property of Ambrose Ward" was written on the inside of the cover. It was definitely not there a moment ago. True, it was strange, but Ambrose had seen a chair change color while he still sat in it, so the shock value just wasn't there. He wondered how the book knew his name, though. On the first page a small note appeared, written in a clean and neat handwriting that read:

"_Dear descendant. In closing this box, so do I close myself from the magical world. Even though I wish to live as a muggle for the rest of my life, I am pleased from beyond the grave that my bloodline still has magic in its veins. Please accept these gifts as they were the only things I couldn't part with. Never forget that I love you, my great granddaughter. Be the best witch you can. Love, Lysandra Catsith"_

"Lysandra Catsith," Ambrose muttered, running his fingers over the text. It was rather annoying that whatever magic the book had in it thought he was girl, but it felt kind of nice to know the name, the _witch_ name, of where his magic came from. Ambrose was a Ward and would always be. But he was also a Catsith now, and he'd never forget it.

"Is this really it?" John asked, adjusting the straps of the old knapsack he wore, "It looks like a dump." Ambrose shared his father's sentiments. The Ward family stood outside a junky, run down shop sandwiched between two normal, running business.

"It's right here on Professor Atramor's instructions, see?" Karen showed her husband the piece of paper before stuffing into the large, empty bag on her shoulder. She had brought it and and the knapsack for Ambrose's school supplies just incase they would be too much of an armful to carry. Even Ambrose had a mostly bag of his own strapped across his chest. Better safe than sorry.

Ambrose found himself fiddling with the cat pendant, which is mother made him keep, hanging from his neck. He took a deep breath and stepped into the building with his parents in toe. The first room was just as junky as the exterior but that didn't stop Ambrose. He passed through the next doorway and paused.

"Woah…" was all he could manage to get out. The small, run down building opened up into a large room filled with people. Most were seated at the center table eating foods Ambrose had only dreamed off. Other's stood around the outside the room, some at smaller tables, talking amongst themselves. The walls were the most fascinating. They looked warped, stretching out as they went up so the owners could hang more picture than at eye level.

Ambrose felt like he and his parent's stuck out like a sore thumb. Oddly enough, the Wards seemed to be the only people wearing 'normal' clothing. All the patrons in the pub were wearing really old fashion clothing that Ambrose would expect to see in a history book or a costume shop. Maybe it was just theme the pub had going or something.

"Come in, come in. Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron," greeted the woman after she served one of her customers his drink. "Are you folks passing through to Diagon Alley?" Ambrose nodded weakly, marveling how such a _wrong_ looking building could exist.

_Magic, of course, _he concluded and somehow just passed it as normal as he parent's couldn't quite do.

"Come along, then. I'll show you through," the woman waved the family over to a door in the back. "Are you going to Hogwarts this year?" she asked in friendly curiosity.

"Yes, ma'am," Ambrose replied softly, "It's my first time."

"Oh a First Year," she smiled and guided the Ward parents through the doorway. "You are in for an amazing time, dear." Outside they were surrounded by 3 brick walls, a few bags of garbage and no where else to go. "Here, I'll get the gateway for you."

The woman pulled a stick- a _wand_, Ambrose corrected himself- from her belt and tapped the bricks in a counterclockwise circle. Mr. and Mrs. Ward gasped loudly in amazement. Even Ambrose couldn't stop himself from gulping as the bricks came alive, moving on their own accord and sliding out of the way till there was a passageway large enough for even his father to not have to duck down.

"Enjoy your time," the woman turned to leave. "I'll see you when you come back through."

"Thank you, ma'am," Ambrose croaked out.

Diagon alley was surprisingly more cramped than Ambrose had imagined. The first buildings were as warped as the interior of the Leaky Cauldron. It was like someone tried to fit all these shops into a space that was too small to fit them all, smooshed them into place and that somehow succeeded. If buildings looked like that anywhere but here they probably would have been been condemned and torn down if they didn't fall on their own accord first.

However, this was normal to the people. They paid no attention to the odd, curved buildings as they chatted or went about their business. In fact Ambrose was a little shocked, as his family moved through the crowd, at how many people there were. Yesterday, magic didn't exist and the whole world agreed with this fact, and yet here was a whole bustling wizard community hiding in plain daylight under everyone's nose. How many other places like this were out there? Just how big of a world was Ambrose really stepping into?

The Ward family ventured further into the Alley. There was a lot more people as the street widened. They wandered for quite a bit and probably got a little more lost than any of them would of liked to admit. They saw shops selling the most amazing and odd things which, Ambrose assumed, where normal for the average wizard to buy.

"This place was unbelievable," Ambrose's father had said for the fifth time. Ambrose agreed but still grumbled under his breath. He was successfully keep his wonderment on the inside as to seem normal and not draw too much attention to himself. His parents were doing the opposite and every pair of eyes they attracted only made Ambrose even more embarrassed. They already stuck out. Ambrose had hoped that after they left the pub, he'd see more people in normal clothing but nope. Old-timey clothing seemed to be very common as well as people wearing baggy robes. Wizard robes, Ambrose assumed.

"There's the wand shop," Ambrose pointed out after seeing a small number of kids his age go in, "Let's going inside."

"We have trade our pounds for wizard money," Ambrose's mother read from Professor Atramor's instructions "We need to go to Gringotts Wizarding Bank."

"It was back the way we came," turned and excused himself for almost bumping into someone.

They found Gringotts, and Ambrose couldn't help but stare at the pillars that 'should' be straight instead of bending as they did. The hesitation didn't last. He wanted to get inside before his dad started talking about how unnatural the pillars looked and started to make a scene. The doors opened by themselves as the family approached. It probably wouldn't of been such an odd sight if the if the doors weren't massive, thick, and extremely heavy looking. A short hallway was just beyond the door, and two rather odd looking guards bowed before them.

These guards were nothing like Ambrose had seen before. It was possible they weren't even human. They had human features but were very short, shorter than Ambrose despite how old they looked. They had pointed ears and the longest, ugliest noses Ambrose had ever seen. Ambrose was so focused on how odd they looked that he had trouble noticing their red and gold uniforms.

Maybe the creatures, whatever they were, were too short for his parents to notice because they were staring at the silver doors that separated the small hallway with the rest of the bank. Upon the doors was an engraved message:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_ _Of what awaits the sin of greed_ _For those who take, but do not earn,_ _Must pay most dearly in their turn._ _So if you seek beneath our floors_ _A treasure that was never yours,_ _Thief, you have been warned, beware_ _Of finding more than treasure there._

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ambrose's mother asked to no one in particular. Neither of the guards answered. Ambrose took it as a warning. If someone wanted to steal from this bank, they would find something worse than police, or whatever a police-wizard were called, after them. His father nodded in agreement.

"It's like a palace in here," his mother gasped at the massive bank as the family moved past the silver doors. Ambrose nodded. He noticed how much larger it seemed on the inside than the outside, but kept it to himself. To point that out to his parents ran the risk of them running outside to check.

"Get a look at that…" whispered his father. He was gesturing towards one of the creatures behind the counter that were writing on some documents. It was the same kind of creature as the guards were. Ambrose couldn't help but stare with his father. The creature and the rest of its kind were just so freaky and ugly looking. They kind of looked like the evil, underground mutants from one of his comic books and...

And...

A wave of terrible guilt washed over the boy. Ambrose scowled and was very disappointed at himself. He suddenly felt very guilty for thinking the creatures were ugly and _freaks_. The whole bank was run by whatever-they-were-called, and that just seemed to be how they looked. They were normal here and so was the way they looked. Ambrose had been taught better than that. He knew better than to judge by appearance and had been on the receiving end of such treatment more than a handful of times.

"Come on, Dad. Stop staring. You'll…" Ambrose didn't get to finish his plea.

"Is it safe to assume that you have never dealt with goblins before?" asked a voice from behind them. The voice belong to a witch who had entered after the Ward family.

"Yes it is," Karen replied with a smile, putting on her usual charm, "It's our first time at Diagon Alley, buying our son supplies for school."

Ambrose stopped listening to the adults the moment he noticed that the witch was accompanied by a young girl close to his age. She was the kind of girl all the popular boys at his school would fight over; pretty, long blond hair, just a little shorter than him and she had grey eyes like him. Oh god, she was looking right at him! He was rubbish talking to new people, ESPECIALLY girls! Thankfully, before he could say something stupid, the girl stuck her hand out.

"Fox," she said with a cheerful smile. "But friends call me Lovelyn. You're going to Hogwarts." If Ambrose wasn't so focused on not making a fool of himself, he might of noticed the lack of a question in her statement and ask how she knew that, but it went completely over his head. He remembered he was a wizard now and should act like it. Pulling himself together, he met her hand for a friendly shake.

"Hi, I'm Ambrose," he replied with a light smile. At least he thought he smiled, "My friends call me, uh, Ambrose." Ambrose wasn't sure why he said that. It just came out without thought, and he felt incredibly dumb for a moment, trying to think of what else to say. "Are you going there too?"

"Yes, of course," Lovelyn replied. Ambrose was sure she noticed what a doofus he was, but she was polite enough not to say. "What house do you hope to get?"

"Oh, um," he had no idea what she was talking about. Ambrose knew he was going to live at the school but his mother did mention dormitories, not houses. There was no point in lying so he'd be blunt. "House? ...Sorry. I didn't even know Hogwart's existed before last night."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Houses… are like tribes. The one you get says a lot about who you are." Ambrose thought better than to point out how primitive the word 'tribes' sounded, and had even less of an idea of what to expect at this school now. "There are four houses," she explained, holding out four fingers, "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. You'll probably end up in one of the first three. The last one… well, they tend to prefer… um…wizards and witches who were born by generations of wizards and witches. They're called Purebloods."

"I see…" Ambrose said simply, hoping the process of finding out which house he'd belong to was nothing like choosing teams for sports since he was sure he'd be picked last.

It was a little disheartening to learn that one-fourth of the school would look down on someone based on the family he was born into. Ambrose also had noticed that there seemed to be something uncomfortable about this subject that Lovelyn was trying to be delicate about. It felt eerily similar to how some people had talked to him about being poor while trying to be polite about it. He couldn't change where he came from anymore than he could change the past. There was no point in worrying about it, so he fell into one of his old habits: poke fun at it.

"I guess it's pretty obvious I don't come from a wizard family, huh?" Ambrose said with a grin as he gestured with a nod to his father who was STILL staring at the poor goblin. His smile brightened when the girl laughed.

"So it would seem!" she said. Ambrose was seriously disappointed when the adults decided to bring their kids back into their conversation.

"My Lovelyn is going to be starting at Hogwarts soon, too. She's going to be a Slytherin, aren't you, dear?" Her mother stated affectionately. Ambrose, however, noticed Lovelyn's expression sour for a moment when "Slytherin" was spoken. Two things were pretty clear to him at that point: she was a Pureblood witch, and she did not want to be in the house that favored them.

"That sounds very prestigious," Ambrose felt his mother's hand on his back as she spoke. He wasn't sure if she really knew if it was a prestigious thing or not, or if she was just being a flatterer. "Ambrose, honey, maybe you and Lovelyn should get to know each other better at the school." Ambrose's eyes widened as he realized what his mother meant with such a suggestive tone. How did he have not seen that coming?!

"Oh god, mom," he groaned as he tried to hide his face in his hands. He didn't want anyone to see the bright red blush on his cheeks, nor did he want to see Lovelyn's reaction.

"What's the matter?" Ambrose's mother pressed, not giving her son any mercy. He could hear the heavy grin in her voice. "You don't think she's pretty enough?" Ambrose begged for either death or for his mother to stop talking. He was ok with either option. "...Kids are so much fun, aren't they?" his mother asked as she patted his back.

"Oh quite!" Lovelyn's mother agreed, "We must finish our errands, but it was a pleasure chatting with you, Mrs. Ward! The goblin your husband seems to be affixed with will be able to help you with your exchange!"

"The pleasure was mine," Ambrose's mother stated and waved. And with that, Lovelyn and her mother departed. Ambrose was pretty sure she'd never want to see him again and that any chance of friendship was gone.

Mrs. Fox was right. The goblin Ambrose's father had been staring at was able to exchange their pounds. He even turned out rather pleasant.

"Sorry for staring, chap," Mr. Ward apologized, "I didn't mean anything by it. Today has been a little overwhelming."

"Don't worry about it, sir," the goblin waved off any offence he might of had as he counted coins, putting them into a purple bag. "You aren't the first, and I doubt you'll be the last. Alright," he placed the bag on the counter between him and Mrs. Ward. "Ok, at current rate your total comes to fifty-four galleons, thirteen sickles and one knut." The goblin reached into the bag and retrieved a sparkling gold coin. "This is a galleon." Next came a smaller, silver coin, "A sickle. There are seventeen sickles to a galleon." Last was the single small, copper coin. "This is a knut. There are twenty-nine knuts to a sickle. Got it?" He placed all 3 coins into the bag and pushed it forward.

"Twenty-nine knuts to a sickle. Seventeen sickles to a galleon," Ambrose's mother parroted back and encouraged her son to do the same. She picked up the bag, tightened the drawstring, and dropped it into her shoulder bag.

"Have a nice day," the goblin said absently, already busy in his next task.

"We should have enough," Mrs. Ward scanned both the list of needed supplies and Professor Atramor's instructions, and then handed the list to her son. "But that doesn't mean we can't do a little bargain hunting."

Ambrose lagged behind his parents for a moment looking towards the back of the bank where Lovelyn and her mother had disappeared. With a shrug, he reread the the supply list before he noticed his parents were already outside waiting for him. Upon exiting the bank, Ambrose spotted a group of four coming up and promptly held the door for them.

He noticed something different about this family. They were the only people Ambrose had seen in Diagon alley wearing normal clothing so far. Well, three of them were; one of the men, a woman, and a boy. The brown haired boy looked a little taller than Ambrose and maybe the same age as him. He wondered if the kid was like him; from a normal life and having just recently found out he's going to be a wizard. The final member of the group wore long, flowing wizard robes and blended with the rest of the populace much better.

"Thank you, young man. Very nice of you," the 'normally' dressed man smiled at Ambrose and passed by. The woman, whom Ambrose assumed was his wife, repeated her husband's sentiments warmly.

"Thanks," the boy nodded lightly. Before Ambrose could say anything, the last man, the wizard of their group, hurried the boy along. The man ignored Ambrose completely, walking at a brisk enough of a pace that his cloak wiped out and smacked Ambrose in the face.

"That guy needs a good punch in the head," Ambrose's normally very peaceful father grumbled when his son finally joined them. "Do you think all wizards are that rude?"

"Nonsense," Ambrose's mother spoke up, "That Mrs. Fox was a lovely woman. Helpful too. There are all kinds of people, dear. Rude or not. Wizard or not."

"I guess," Ambrose's father glared at the bank for another moment before letting the situation wash off his shoulders.

"Let's get the uniform out of the way first!" Mrs. Ward exclaimed, "since I know clothes shopping is your favorite," she winked at Ambrose. Ambrose rolled his eyes and sarcastically agreed with his mother. To be truthful though, this was the first time he was looking forward to buying clothes. Shopping for normal clothing was dreadfully boring, and he rarely cared about what he wore. But he wasn't shopping for normal clothes this time. They were going robe shopping. Ambrose was going to buy _wizard_ robes!

Ambrose spotted the shop first. Madam Malkin's Robes, it was called and it was fairly nice inside. There he held up one of the Hogwart's black uniforms while his mom talked with the owner. Ambrose wasn't used to holding new clothings like this, let alone robes and wondered how much they cost. He heard a few kids talking about him. He didn't catch the details but was sure it wasn't flattering. It took his mother less than three minutes to find out the owner of the shop was not willing to haggle over prices. However the Secondhand robe shop down the alley might be more flexible. If anything else they would be cheaper as long as Ambrose didn't mind his robes being "slightly used." He didn't mind one bit, he was used to his stuff being pre-owned. They thanked the shop owner for her time and the directions.

Diagon Alley was getting busier and it was getting harder to move through the crowd. Ambrose had started to notice a lot more kids walking either with friends or their families. He wondered how many of them would be classmates or would be upperclassmen. He wondered how many of them would be as lost as him at the school.

The Secondhand robe shop was much smaller and there was only one other student and parent pair looking through the robes. Most importantly the shopkeeper was willing to haggle. Ambrose spent the next forty or so minutes trying robe after robe on. Some were way too big. Some were too tight. Some looked like they only had a year's worth of use left in them before they'd fall apart.

When Ambrose came out of the dressing room wearing the first good robe that fit him, his mother squealed in delight and called her husband who had been browsing the adult robes. Ambrose looks at himself in the mirror and could hardly believe what he was seeing. It was like dressing up on halloween. Except this was a thousand times better because it wasn't makebelieve!

"So handsome," his mother said before hugging him. His father gave him a grin and a thumbs up.

The time they spent in the shop was worth it. They eventually found three more robes, one more than what was needed. Two were probably a tad on the large side but that meant he could wear them for longer as he grew into them. Mr. Ward found a nice wizard's hat that his wife could fix up to look as good as new. Ambrose found the gloves he needed, which to his surprise were made of actual dragon hide and not just something called "dragon hide". Even the shopkeeper lent a hand, retrieving an old winter coat that needed a few cleanings but was otherwise in good condition.

It was a little scary seeing his mom haggle with someone, Ambrose knew, and this shopkeeper was a master at it. The shopkeeper probably expected the muggle woman to be a pushover, but they back and forth for a while before finally settling on a price and started laughing about it. Ambrose looked to his dad for an answer but all he did was shrug in response.

"That was fun," Ambrose's mother stated outside the shop. "I am liking some of these magic folk." Ambrose was looking as his list.

"I want to get my wand next," he grinned. Maybe it was seeing himself in wizard robes had really set a fire under his seat or maybe his whole situation was finally sinking it but he was really excited!

"While you two do that," Ambrose's father got some coins from his wife, "I'll head the other way and see if I can find anything on the list."

The Ward family went their separate ways, and Ambrose was too excited to care if his dad did something embarrassing while away.

"Ollivanders. Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." the sign said. The inside was rather on the dinky side and small, but the shop seemed impossibly tall when Ambrose looked up. The moment the door was closed, all sound from outside was cut off, and the silence was deafening. The walls were nothing more than shelves with a countless number of thin boxes of different colors, and most had writing on them. Two men were inside. The elder, sitting behind the counter, looked up from his newspaper and grunted a greeting. Oddly enough, Ambrose couldn't tell if it was a friendly grunt or not. He stared at Ambrose with wide, silvery eyes.

"Welcome, welcome," greeted the younger man from the stairs that spiraled around the inside of the building.

"Good morning," Ambrose said, attempting to keep both his excitement and awkwardness down.

"Here for your wand, I assume," the younger man stated as he descended the staircase.

"Yes, sir," Ambrose answered as he stepped closer. His mother stayed in the back, choosing to let her son take the lead on this with a grin.

"Excellent. My name is Geraint Ollivander, and this is my father. Let me see your wand arm?" Garriant asked, holding out measuring tape.

"My what?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Muggleborn or Halfblood?" the man paused to consider his next words, "No matter. The hand you hold a quill with." Ambrose was able to connect quill with pen and held up his right hand. "Excellent," Geraint cheered before going into a flurry of measurement taking up and down Ambrose's right side and arm, and even around his head. "Wait right here," he said before running up the stairs.

"Actually," Ambrose tried to say but went unheard.

"Found it! Ten and a half inches, oak with unicorn hair," Geraint slapped the wand into Ambrose's hand. "Go ahead, give it a try." Ambrose repeatedly waved the wand in the air in a small figure eight in the air. The old man shook his head, and the younger took the wand away, tossed it in the box to the side, and went up the stairs again, "Let's try again."

"Actually," Ambrose repeated as Geraint went up the stairs, listening but not stopping. "I was wondering if you could look at an old wand and maybe tell me if I could use that." he said, retrieving his great grandmother's box from his bag.

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid it doesn't work like that," Geraint informed him, finding a whole batch of wands this time and descending. "You see, wizards doesn't pick their wand. They are much more special than that. A wand chooses it's own owner. Some are pickier than others," he explain. Ambrose had already opened the box and pulled the old wand out. The older Ollivander rose from his seat.

"Let me see that wand," he reached out and took it with surprising speed for his age. "Ah yes. Yes, yes," the old man held the wand close to his eyes. Twelve inches. Larch. Dragon heartstring core. Special order decor. I remember every wand I've ever sold, you see." He almost seemed to smile. "Every single one. This one is from early in my career. Very early. A Pureblood paid for its construction for his son. The wand had other plans. That boy walked out with a nine and a half inch wand. Willow and phoenix feather. This wand," he held up the wand and gave it to Ambrose, "Chose a young witch named Lysandra Catsith. Rude girl but good intent. Try it out."

Ambrose waved the wand and pretended to cast some random spell. The old man nodded his approval.

"Interesting," Geraint rubbed his chin and looked closer, "It's a perfect match. I've never seen a dragon heartstring wand bond with a second owner so effortlessly."

"That wand will serve you well, boy," the old man retook his seat. "What is your name?"

"Ambrose Ward," he replied with a sudden spot of shyness.

"Take care of that wand, Ambrose Ward. It is powerful. Do not let it push you around. Put those wands away," the older Ollivander told the younger, who quickly gathered the armful of boxes he had brought down moments ago thinking a wand inside might suit Ambrose.

"Thank you, very much," Ambrose smiled. Ambrose and his mother left the shop, and Ambrose was on cloud nine. He had bought his wizard robes, and now he had _his_ wand safely tucked away in his great grandma's box. Ambrose was so excited and pleased that he failed to see the other boy before it was too late, and they collided.

"Ow," Ambrose sat up on the ground, rubbing the spot his head hit something hard. "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Are you alright?" He looked to the person he had knocked over.

"Oh no, no, it's fine. I was in a little bit of a hurry," the boy said very quickly, "I'm excited to get my wand. First year at Hogwards coming up!" Ambrose thought the boy looked familiar and it seems the sentiment was mutual. "You're the boy from before, right? The one at Gringotts? I didn't hurt your head too badly did I?"

"No, I'm alright," Ambrose said automatically as he picked himself off the ground. He finally recognized the boy as the one from earlier; the first and only _normally_ dressed kid Ambrose had seen at Diagon Alley. "Oh, yeah. Gringotts the bank, right?" He offered the boy his hand. "I'm Ambrose."

The rather lanky boy took Ambrose's hand and together they pulled him to his feet.

"My name's Tyler. Are you new to Hogwarts this year too?," the boy, Tyler, asked.

"Uh, yeah," Ambrose was hit with a slight case of bashfulness. "Yeah. It's my first year," he said, slowly gaining a little more confidence. He knew he needed to be less shy around new people. "I just got my wand." Ambrose said before giving a small chuckle at his own words. "Sorry. Yesterday I didn't even know magic existed and now I have a _magic_ wand."

"Oh your parents must be muggles too!" Tyler said. It was true and probably clear before Ambrose had said anything. They were both wearing what wizards would probably call muggle-clothing, but Tyler's was clearly in better condition. "Isn't this place something else?" he exclaimed, breaking Ambrose from his thought, "That brick wall separating all this from the rest of London is bloody awesome! And then the Goblins! have you ever seen something like that?!" Tyler beamed, seemingly overjoyed to find someone to share in the craziness that passed for normal at Diagon Alley.

"Yeah," Ambrose couldn't help but grin. Maybe Tyler's energy was infectious or maybe it was more of a relief that he wasn't the only kid who was completely new to the idea that magic was real and there were wizards in the world. Either way, the bashful Ambrose was shrinking. "It's crazy here, isn't it?!" he said, sharing in Tyler's excitement. "I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw those bricks move! And the bending building and all the people in _wizard_ robes! It's so cool! Like something straight out of comic book!"

"I was going to say out of a Tolken novel but yeah!" Tyler exclaimed again just before a familiar man stepped from the crowd and placed his large hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Glad to have caught up with you; your mom went with your uncle," the man said, saying the last word with a touch of venom. He was one of the men Ambrose had seen with Tyler outside the bank, the friendly one.

"At least you aren't related to him," Tyler muttered. Ambrose wondered if his uncle was the rude wizard in their group. "Ambrose, this is my dad, Dylan Hale."

"Very nice to meet you, young man," the man, Mr. Hale, said with a smile. "And also thank you again for holding the door at that bank. Your parents clearly raised you well."

"Oh, hello," Ambrose shifted, a little uncomfortable at being put on the spot, even if it was for a good thing. "It was no problem, sir." He felt his mother's hand on his shoulder.

"Why, thank you for the compliment, Mr. Hale. The trick was to always have a bag full of treats," Ambrose's mother grinned at her own joke and reached out for a handshake. Ambrose rolled his eyes. "Karen Ward. Pleasure to meet you. Lovely boy you have there."

"Hi Mrs. Ward! I'm Tyl-" Tyler started before his father placed his hand over the boy's mouth, cutting him off.

"Why, thank you. He's been a bit excited since arriving. Especially after the BOOKSTORE," Mr. Hale blurted out the last word and started tickling his son relentlessly. Ambrose smiled. He and his dad would horse around on occasion, and it was nice to see that Tyler shared the same close bond with his own father. Quickly, Tyler escaped and grinned from ear to ear.

"And I'm Tyler," he introduced himself again. Mr. Hale ruffled his son's hair.

"How are you taking this whole thing?" the man asked, gesturing to everything around them.

"In strides," Ambrose's mother thoughtfully. "I had heard stories as a girl but had no idea all this was real 'til-"

"He turned a chair red!" Ambrose piped in without thinking and quickly regretted the attention. "The professor who came to our house… He turned our old, blue chair bright red."

"Yes, it was something else." Ambrose's mother said thoughtfully, "Met a few nice people here. Some… not so much. But live and let live"

"The one that came to my house turned a _lamp_ into a bloody _bird,_ and then it _bit_ me!" Tyler exclaimed. "Almost took my finger off!"

"Language! And the way your mother told it you got bit by the 'lamp-bird' because you were poking it," Mr. Hale looked at his son. Speaking to Ambrose's mother then, "Ah! Well, you've fared a slight better than us then. So far, our day has been directed by one rather demanding wizard, Tyler's uncle." Ambrose was a little more sure, now, that they were talking about the rude man they were with at the bank.

"A right ponce he is." Tyler added.

"Language!" Mr. Hale said, giving Tyler a light smack upside the head. "Although, you're right. But it seems we have had a change of luck. It was a pleasure to meet you, Karen, and you as well, Ambrose, but I think we need to get someone his wand before aforementioned wizard shows up."

"Here dad, give me your mobile, I want to get Ambrose's number before we go," Tyler said looking at his father expectantly until he hesitated and looked to Ambrose, "That is, if you'd like to swap them. I didn't mean to be so forward, you just seemed…" Tyler paused, as if not sure what to say. "Cool," he ended with, which surprised Ambrose a little. He had never been called cool in his whole life.

"Can I, Mom?" Ambrose asked. She smiled and nodded. Ambrose gave Tyler their house number and even had him repeat it to make sure it was right. "I hope we have class together." Their parents had already said their goodbyes and were moving to part ways. "Talk to you later then."

"Awesome! I'll be sure to give you a ring in the next few days; I want to have time to look over our new texts so we can talk about them!" Tyler said, waving. Ambrose waved back before he followed his mother away from the wand shop.

"Where would you like to go next, honey?" Ambrose's mother asked. It took the boy a moment to think about it but not long.

"The bookstore," Ambrose decided, scanning the crowd. There was no doubt that a lot of the people were here for same reason he and his family were: shopping for supplies for the upcoming school year. With normal schools, students needed a new set of textbooks each year, and Ambrose assumed Hogwarts was no different. That meant every single student or family would be going through the bookstore at some point today, and it was only going to get worse as the day went on.

It sucked being right. The bookstore was packed full of people. Mostly were students probably, Ambrose's age and up. There were a few parents but not Ambrose's since she decided it would be better to wait outside. There was one odd customer that caught Ambrose's eye. A pale, sickly thin looking creature wearing a tunic made out of a rag. Ambrose didn't stare. The store staff, however, were well prepared for the rush of purchases. They had stacks upon stacks of the same books they kept drawing from as they helped each customer. The process moved faster than Ambrose thought it would but more people still piled in behind him.

"How can I help you, sir?" the one of the men behind the counter asked as Ambrose stepped up. "Hogwarts, second year?" Ambrose shook his head.

"No. First year books. Please." The man smiled and shrugged.

"A little tall for a first year but not tall enough for a second. So I took a guess," he said as if it was supposed to be a joke. If it was, Ambrose didn't get it. "Any preference on pre-owned books? You get a nice discount on them." Ambrose couldn't help but think of the comic book sitting in the trash at home, and thought it over..

"No preference as long as all the pages are still readable," he said finally.

"Of course, my good sir," the man pulled out the list and set it on the table. "All our pre-owned books have been checked thoroughly and any severe damage is repaired. The most you'll have to deal with is some doodles, writing or folded pages. Maybe some water damage. And you'll get a decent discount."

"Sounds good to me," Ambrose smiled at the word discount. He felt good saving money so far. First on the robes, then the wand and now the books. Maybe he could give his folks back some of their savings.

"Excellent. Stay right there." the shop assistant went to several piles of books, looking near the bottom of each one. With a wave of his wand the pile would levitate so he could reach one particular book. He returned with a stack of eight thick books and set them down on the counter with a chain of thuds. "Standard Book of Spells. History of Magic. Magical Theory," the more the man read titles, the more theatrical he became, and Ambrose wasn't sure if he had taken a breath since he started. "Beginners Guide to Transfiguration. One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Magical Drafts and Potions, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. AND The Dark Forces: A Guide To Self Protection!" the man struggled with the last word before gasping.

Ambrose couldn't help but stare at the books. That was a lot of info. The bookseller pulled himself together.

"Let see. We had used copies of most of your books. However, we only have new copies of three of them," He smiled brightly at Ambrose. "Is there anything else you are interested in, young man?" Ambrose couldn't answer that if he wanted to. If the shop hadn't been so busy he might of looked around a bit, but he declined. "Excellent. If you bring these book back in similar or better condition after the school year, we can give you credit for next year. Have a nice day!"

Ambrose paid for the required books, stuffing half of them into his bag and carried the rest out in his arms.

"Get enough books?" his mother teased, taking the books from her son and noticing the volume of his bag had doubled. Ambrose just rolled his eyes.

"Hello Family!" John Ward appeared out of a passing crowd next to Ambrose and his mother, making Ambrose jump a little. "I had a productive venture. I found a junk shop that sold the a few Telescopes and the scales but I didn't like the condition they were in. So I found the shop that sold new ones and got them there." Ambrose flinched at his father's brashness to buy brand new items when cheaper was available. How bad could the used one's be? But he shook it off.

"Ok, so," he read off the list of things they had to his parents and even checked the items his father acquired to make sure they were all there. "All I need are the phials and the caldron." Wow, that felt weird to say. Ambrose tried to wrap his brain around the fact he would soon own a caldron.

"I think I saw those places where we first came in," his father pointed. "We can get them on our way out."

So the Ward family did. They moved through the crowd and Ambrose tried to take it all in one last time. It was his first experience amongst the magical community, and he was sure he wouldn't be returning to Diagon Alley till next year. There was one side track before they reached the apothecary supplies.

"John," Ambrose's mother had stopped them, "Go buy some paper and a quil. I think that's what wizards use to write with." Mr. Ward nodded and walked over to the shop with the giant quill on the sign. "Ambrose," his mother put her hand on his shoulder. "The list said you were allowed to bring a pet to school with you. Remember how the Professor said wizards use owls like postmen? Maybe you should get one. I bet not every kid in school has their own owl."

Ambrose tried to keep as neutral of a face as possible as he looked at the owls outside the shopped that sold them. It was that he didn't like his mother's idea. It sounded so cool to own his own mail carrying owl. However there were two things weighing heavily on the boy's mind. The only reason they had as many galleons left as they did was because of luck and buying used items. He really didn't want to blow the rest of his money away on something he didn't need. The other thing was that Ambrose had every intention of bring Mera to school with him. He was sure she'd be fine there, and it would be great not having to hide her from everyone. He could even return home claiming she was a wizard cat he was awarded for doing something. But he couldn't tell his mother that now.

"I don't know," Ambrose squirmed a little. He had to tread carefully not to lie. His mother could smell lies a mile away. "I bet they are expensive and I don't know the first thing about taking care for an owl." She gave him a funny look. "I just don't want to spend all our money," he said finally.

"Ok, baby," his mother replied but Ambrose was sure she didn't buy his reasoning completely. "Maybe next year." Ambrose signed in relief.

Mr. Ward returned with a number of different scrolls and parchment, all kinds the shopkeeper claimed a first year student would need. This included a few inkwells and quills. Together they bought the phiels and the caldron which was actually smaller than Ambrose had thought it would be, smell enough for him to carry with one hand. Neither items could be purchased used and the sellers weren't willing to bargain. No matter. They had enough galleons to spare.

Before the Ward family could leave through the gateway a very crafty salesman spotted the family. He spoke of potions and all the amazing things they could do. Ambrose's imagination was set ablaze. He was excited about the potion's he was going to learn to make. That's when the salesman struck. While a set of potion ingredients were required, he said having one's own stock would give Ambrose a massive leg up in the class. In the end, neither Ambrose nor his mother could say no.

Ambrose followed his parents out of the Leaky Caldron. His mom said there were sandwiches with their names on them at home. Ambrose counted six galleons, thirteen sickles, and four knuts in the bag they had gotten from the bank. It was all that was left.

_I'll need more before next year,_ Ambrose sighed to himself Looking back at the broken looking building they exited from, he smiled suddenly with all his excitement coming to the surface. _I'm going to be a wizard!_

* * *

><p><em>It's a lot of fun bringing RPstory to life with my two friends. I hope whoever reads our tale enjoys it because we enjoy crafting it. It's sad we can't go any faster! The biggest challenge for me is to let others read my writing. I've posted stories in the past but quickly retracted them. Heh. For this story I can't do that because GrumpyGirl has control. Someday I'll post some of my other work and KEEP it up. Someday._

_-The Mad Warlock_

_This chapter was written by Niros The Mad Warlock  
><em>u/826340/


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